I is for Indignation

I is for Indignation

(Warning: PG-13, Dirty Word Talk)

Nothing says loser like the phrase “chickensh$%".  It’s a time honored expletive that conveys the speaker’s total lack of respect for the object or receiver of the expression. (It’s on the Internet, so it must be true.)

adjective

adjective: chicken-sh@&;

1.     worthless or contemptible (used as a general term of deprecation).

"no more chickensh&* excuses"

noun

noun: chicken-sh&@;

1.     a worthless or contemptible person.

Why is it such a powerful cuss word?

Because chickensh$% is the silliest poop in the world, also chickens are cowardly.

Well, some chickens are cowardly, and some chickens will rake your eyes out with their razor-like chicken spurs. And then they’ll take a icky dump on your lifeless husk as they eat you. It’s true.

But I digress.  

Chickens poop nasty. It’s pee-pee and poo-poo all wrapped up in one, which chickens leave like tiny landmines everywhere they roam, unless they’re roosting in the rafters of the barn and then they rain chickensh*% down on your head like tiny, stinky carpet bombs.

Mostly, we keep our chickens in a chicken coop, except when we don’t. When the coop is getting a makeover or the chickens have escaped it’s possible that our chickens are “free ranging.” At present, we are re-modeling our coop. They are freely ranging.

Free ranging means that chickens are allowed to roam freely—mostly to the rafters of our barn, over our heads, when we’re trying to have ballet class. It’s true. (Once a week, we have ballet class in the barn, leading to a lot of free ranging ballerinas wandering around. I just realized that ballerinas in the barn are weirder than chickens in the rafters.) So, there you go—free ranging chickens and free ranging ballerinas, and you’ve got the recipe for some crazy chickensh&# drama.

Sure enough, my daughter-in-law, while practicing her step-ball-change (or twerking or grand jete or whatever) got be-fouled (see what I did there?) by our rooster. In an explosion of pee/poop she was blasted from above. The goosh hit her sleeve, dripped down her arm, only to plop onto the back of her ankle. She howled. The rooster calmly shifted his position in the rafters and went back to sleep. A lot of the twerk went out of our dance class at that point, I can tell you. Sigh.

She was indignant, taking the rooster’s free ranging expression of biologic necessity personally.

Looking on the bright side, I said, “At least it wasn’t in your hair.”

The moral of the story: It’s a foul expletive.

As a real life experience: It’s a foul expletive.

Linda (Heads Up) Zern

NOTE:  I can’t remember my father NOT using the phrase in relation to: the world, his job, politics, modern life, daily life, family life, groups of people . . . etc. I mean he loved saying it.